


The Flesh is Poison

by Mutehonker



Series: MephAmai Drabbles [1]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Blood and Gore, Drabble, Fingers are yummy don’t you know?, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mutehonker/pseuds/Mutehonker
Summary: Amaimon has fucking problems.
Relationships: Amaimon/Mephisto Pheles
Series: MephAmai Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977286
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	The Flesh is Poison

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been 86 years since I last wrote fanfic so please take pity on me and idk how to write a summary so tada here it is. I’m also a slut for these two demons so i plan to write plenty more drabbles.

Demons were beings driven by desire and so when they finally all got a taste of Assiah it wasn’t surprising they clung to it. Desperately snatching up any body they could sink their claws in. Even with all the agony that came with flesh, demons were still addicted. None of the Baal were immune to the agony, not even the youngest. Beelzebub choosing to sleep the pain away, awaking only briefly before dozing right back off.

The second youngest bounced from urge to urge, exploring any and all options that would prove even a temporary relief to the pain of possessing a vessel. Which meant even indulging even more nasty whims. He hadn’t meant to go further than his nail, but his current hobby of watching the cityscape wasn’t all that interesting. He could admit it was pretty, all the twinkling lights. The sight and smell of humans living their daily lives. 

Maybe if the body he was in was freshly possessed it would be enough to distract him. But he’d been in this one for a while, over a century now and the rot had started to set in. The sickly sweet smell hidden by all the layers he dressed himself in but he knew. Anyone with a half working nose could smell the rot. Amaimon was in pain and he didn’t want to flee back to Gehenna even if it would stop his pain. Slow the rot that was eating away at his vessel.

So instead he brought a nail up to chew on. Amaimon easily snapping the claw in half and swallowing down the fragment. The demon going after his cuticles next, chewing a stripe of skin down enough before he drew blood. The red liquid welling up before he licked it away with a swipe of his tongue. After that he just lost himself in the motion. The slight pain was something new to focus on as he looked over the cityscape with unseeing eyes.

He’d barely even noticed the crunch of bone, blood filling his mouth. Instead he’d just sucked at the wound before moving from his thumb to his other fingers. Sticking both his index and middle fingers into his mouth Amaimon didn’t hesitate to bite clean through. The sharp pain, something new. Different than the ever present sensation of his flesh rotting around him, the cells of his vessel rejecting him. He much preferred this. He’d heal and it was such a good distraction. Amaimon quickly shoving the remaining fingers into his mouth and sank his teeth in. Flesh and bone both giving way under his fangs as hot blood filled his mouth. 

More, he wanted more.

Maybe the pain would stop if he just ate himself. He knew how good human flesh tasted. Would the rot taste as sweet as it smelled? He hoped so. He did so like sweets. Hopefully he tasted like one giant sweet. 

He was so lost in his delusions he didn’t even notice the presence of his elder brother appearing behind him on the roof. The curl of pink smoke slipping past him, carried by the wind completely unnoticed. What did register was the hand slipping into his hair and finally wrapped around his horn. His head being violently yanked back, Amaimon forced to crane his neck and lift into the grip to somewhat space himself some discomfort.

The crazed expression that greeted Mephisto drew a sigh from the older demon, the demon reaching down with his free hand to yank Amaimons mutilated hand free of his mouth. 

“Really Amaimon, there’s better things to snack on than yourself.” Tightening his grip on his brothers wrist he softened his grip on Amaimon hair, almost petting instead as he watched the demon slowly come back to himself.

“Calm, calm yourself. Focus on me.”

A task easier said than done but Amaimon tried. The demon's mouth falling open and blood bubbling up past his lips and spilling down his front. It was a gory sight but Amaimon had never been one to waste food. The demon swallowing the remains of his fingers as he breathed deep, doing his best to focus on his brother's scent. 

Mephisto always smelt like old things, like a library of well loved ancient books. Of course the demon always wore sweet smelling perfume atop it which led to an odd blend that Amaimon enjoyed more than he would admit. Pressing harder against Mephistos leg, Amaimon curled his free hand around Mephistos boot and whimpered. 

“Big brother?” Golden eyes finally focused on Mephistos face, all the fight draining out of him and he slumped. He was embarrassed at the weakness but grateful still Mephisto had shown up. In the grand scheme of things eating himself wouldn’t have been all that bad. But they’d already lost one of the Baal to madness they couldn’t afford to lose more.

“Back with me? Good. If I can give you a perfect body, one that won’t reject you. Would you take it?” There was no need to explain the deal further. They both knew Mephisto didn’t offer things for free without expecting something in return. It was just up to Amaimon to decide if the risk was worth it. 

Turning golden eyes on the cityscape Amaimon debated the risk before he glanced down at his mutilated hand. The stump a mess of blood and what was left of his fingers little nubs. It would take time to heal and it would be an irritating and itchy process. 

A body without pain? One meant for him that wouldn’t try to fight him off like he was an infection? Flesh that welcomed him? 

“I’ll take it.”

“Good.”

Amaimon's reward for his answer is claws carefully sliding through his hair, the two brothers sharing a quiet moment. Not completely uncommon, considering Amaimon could be a demon of few words when he wanted but it was still a unique experience. One Amaimon was loath to ruin, so instead he relaxed and leaned into the claws in his hair. 

He would probably end up doing something embarrassing for Mephisto in return for his perfect body but what choice did he have really? Gehenna might be home but they all craved Assiah and to be here in flesh that welcomed him? 

He’d be a fool to turn down such an offer.


End file.
